


For Bear

by Blue_Finch



Series: More Than Partners [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:59:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/974065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Finch/pseuds/Blue_Finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A terrible argument and break up affects not just the two men</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harold's Dog

**Author's Note:**

> Not Beta read
> 
> Not a vet, don't even own a dog,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Reese, John Randolph was the name he’d given the receptionist, sat in the waiting room of the small veterinary clinic that welcomed new patients, no appointment necessary. Bear lay listless at his feet. The Malenois hadn’t eaten enough these two past months to keep a small terrier alive let alone a dog his size. Then two days ago Bear had just stopped eating altogether.

John Reese, John Randolph was the name he’d given the receptionist, sat in the waiting room of the small veterinary clinic that welcomed new patients, no appointment necessary. Bear lay listless at his feet. The Malenois hadn’t eaten enough these two past months to keep a small terrier alive let alone a dog his size. Then two days ago Bear had just stopped eating altogether.

When Bear’s name was called, John followed the veterinary assistant to an examination room, Bear feebly rising and walking alongside. Once in the room the tech asked John to take a seat if he wanted to. John wasn’t in the chair but a second before the dog was lying down again at his feet.

The tech looked at John sympathetically and told him, “I need to get his weight and draw some blood.”

Before John could get out a word of warning the tech had scooped Bear up in his arms and stood him on the scale. In well-practiced efficiency the weighing was done and Bear was placed on a large stainless steel exam table.

Another few minutes the blood was drawn, and the tech was gone with a, “The vet will be in shortly, as soon as the preliminary blood-work is done; we do it right here in the clinic.”

All John could do after the tech had left was reach over and stroke the dog’s head as he again lay lethargic and spiritless there on the table.

He chuckled humorlessly, “You would have tried to take that guy’s hand off two months ago for doing that. You would have, if he had touched Harold.”

The dog whined at Harold’s name.

‘Damn, why did I say Harold?’ “Hey buddy, I miss him too, I’m so sorry.”

For the next thirty minutes John just stroked the dog’s head and every so often would whisper, “I’m sorry.”

The veterinarian knocked politely and entered the room. “I have Bear’s tests back,” she told John in a good news bad news sort of way.

“Of course these tests are just preliminary and I can have other more specific ones done if you would like, but the tests we just ran show nothing abnormal. He is underweight for a dog his size but not too underweight for the length of time you say he’s had no appetite. I am just concerned it will escalate if we can’t get him to eat soon.”

“Hey, Bear, I’m just going to look you over, okay?” The vet set the file she had been looking at on a side cabinet and started looking in the dog’s ears, nose, and mouth.

She finished her exam, patted Bear, and then pulled up the other vacant chair to speak to John face to face.

“I know I am young, but my father was a vet for years. This practice was his, before I took it over, so I was practically raised here. I have seen it before. Some of my colleagues would scoff at the idea, but I think Bear has lost the will to live. Owners die, a beloved pet grieves itself to death. I only ask this for Bear’s health, has he lost someone?”

“My partner… he…I….”

When John couldn’t continue, she misconstrued it for his own grief, condoling him and questioning too, “Oh I’m so sorry, how long ago?”

“Oh no, he didn’t…we broke up, two months ago, due to my own stupidity, I don’t…I don’t know where he is. He left Bear with me; he was always my dog to Harold.” John drew in a heavy sigh, “I guess he never realized whose dog Bear really was.”

The vet looked at him, sympathy in her eyes, “You said you broke up two months ago. Bear quit eating altogether two days ago. Can you think of anything that happened two days ago, something you did with Bear you hadn’t done in the two months prior?“

“I took him to a dog park where we all three used to go. Bear perked up when he recognized where we were. I sat on ‘our’ bench while Bear played with a _friend_ of his. Bear seemed to back to his normal self for a while. When his _friend_ and her owner left, I leashed him up to leave. I had to order him to come. When we got back to my loft, he just collapsed on his bed. He hasn’t eaten a thing since.”

“This may sound crazy Mr. Randolph; dogs don’t understand death, breakups, divorce like we do. People are there then they are gone and don’t come back. When you took Bear to a place he associated with your partner and you two left without him, to Bear he was never coming back. She looked at him quizzically, "I know it sounds crazy.”

“I can order more tests if you want, if you want to rule out the physical. I can give you some medications that may stimulate his appetite. But I think for Bear, you need to find his Harold, soon.”

John believed her; he didn’t know how he would, but he would find Harold. He had to. He couldn’t let their dog die, too. Not like his and Harold’s new life together had…..

 


	2. Leon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John watched Bear hobble slowly over to his bed; lay down, head on paws; close his eyes and whine agonizingly, yet almost soundlessly. He took the medicine bottle out of the bag from the animal clinic, went over and knelt by the dog’s bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leon helps out.

John watched Bear hobble slowly over to his bed; lay down, head on paws; close his eyes and whine agonizingly, yet almost soundlessly. He took the medicine bottle out of the bag from the animal clinic, went over and knelt by the dog’s bed.

“I know you’re not going to like this, but it’s the best I can do for now boy.”

He measured out the dosage written on the bottle’s label into the dropper, lifted Bear’s head and gently opened his mouth. Bear didn’t fight it, just let John squirt the liquid medication down his throat and swallowed.

John’s didn’t think his heart had any more room left in it to contain the hurt he felt as he watched Bear being so passive. Seemed like there was to no limit to the pain his heart could hold.

He stroked Bear’s head once, and then stood while pulling his cellphone from his pocket.

John had tried fruitlessly a hundred times since that day, and again like the hundred times before, the phone clicked several times before he heard Harold Wren’s voice-mail, again.

“Harold, please call me. I know you hate me now, I don’t blame you. But it’s not about what happened between us this time. It’s Bear. I know you can hear me! Damn it Harold, talk to me! .... Oh God, I’m sorry, just please call me.” 

John pressed the end key and held the phone against his forehead.  He knew there would be no call, but he waited, fruitlessly hoping there would be one anyways.  

He called Leon Tau. Leon couldn’t quite disguise his surprise John was even calling, “Hey man, what’s up?”  John _politely_ asked Leon to come over and gave him the loft’s address.

Thirty minutes later Leon was there, in the loft, his eyes widening as he looked around. “Nice place, dude. I really need to get in the business of helping people.”  

John had Leon up against the wall his hands clutching Tao's shirt in his fists without even thinking, “Can it Leon. I know you’ve been working for Harold. Where is he?”

“Can you let me go…please? I’ll tell you what I know,“ pleading with John, knowing his secret was out, if it had ever been one.

John let the shirt and the man in it go. Smoothing the shirt under the palms of his hands, his voice was deceptively calm, “Okay, Leon. Talk!”

“Okay, I do work for him; have since you two _severed your partnership._ He sends me… stuff… to pass along to that crazy bitch, Shaw. That’s all I do man, I’m just the messenger boy. I don’t know where he is. And no, I can’t track where the crap comes from. I tried once, got nowhere, just a warning to never try it again.”

“You know what? I believe you Leon. So you are safe…for today. Now you are going to make it up to me that you have been lying to me all this time, by staying here with Bear.”

“Why can’t he stay at my place?”

“He’s sick, Leon, he stays here. There are some meds in the fridge for him. The emergency number for the vet is there on the door.  If he wants to eat, there’s something for him in there too, next to the meds. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

John left to go change into clothes suitable for riding the Ducati Harold had bought him for his last birthday, before everything had fallen to pieces. Leon was sitting cross-legged on the floor, Bear’s head in his lap, as John headed for the door.

“Not quite ‘déjà vu’ John, but I hope you find him. For him now too." He was looking knowingly down at the dog. "I’ll take good care of Bear, you can count on me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not much this chapter, more tomorrow


	3. Searching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five hours and twelve of Harold’s safe-houses later, John hadn’t found any indication Harold had been to any of them recently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John spends the day searching

Five hours and twelve of Harold’s safe-houses later, John hadn’t found any indication Harold had been to any of them recently.

It was no surprise that he found new tenants in some who couldn’t tell him where the former occupant had moved to or even who they were. The residence they were in was vacant when they had moved in.

This last one was an older ten story apartment complex made of bright red brick, huge windows; sculpted gilded lions were etched into the molding surrounding them and had an awning covered entrance of opaque-green glass doors.

John didn’t want to go there; it was where they had spent their last night together; he hadn’t been back since.

John parked the bike in front of the building, briefly looking up at the block of windows where Harold _Falcone’s_ apartment was. The doorman quickly hid his surprise with friendly recognition when John approached him. 

He greeted John with a pleasant, “How are you this afternoon  Mr. Ryan?” At the same time he moved in front of the doors discreetly blocking John’s entrance into the building.

John wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries and just answered with a curt, “I was planning on seeing Mr. Falcone. Is he in?”

For the second time the doorman had to hide his surprise.

“Mr. Falcone doesn’t reside here any longer. I believe he is in London now overseeing his company’s office there. You might try contacting him through the New York office.”

John knew these doormen were paid handsomely not to divulge anything about the building’s tenant’s personal lives, so he had no doubt the man had received a _bonus_ of some kind to relay that information to him. 

So this was another dead end. There may be a London office but highly doubtful _Falcone_ was actually there overseeing it. It was just another message to John, don’t look for me.

After John got back on the bike, he couldn’t help but take one last look at those windows, remembering looking out of them, the view of the river at night, Harold softly asking him to come back to bed.

He snatched his helmet up, jammed it on his head, started the bike and sped away from the building, away from reliving the rest of that night.

John rode the bike aimlessly through the city, no destination in mind, futilely trying to figure out a way to find a man who couldn’t be found when he didn’t want to be found.

He hadn’t been keeping track of time before he looked at his watch while waiting for the traffic light to change. It had been hours since he’d called to check on Bear. Once traffic started moving at the light’s changing, John pulled the bike into the first empty space he could find.

John pulled off the helmet and then the cell phone from his jacket pocket. He called Leon, relieved and sad too when Tau told him Bear was still the same. He still hadn't eaten but Leon had been able to get the dog to drink a small amount of water.

_“When you coming back man? I’m good here, I am, but …hold on...”_

“You just keep doing what you’re doing Leon. I’ll get there when I can.” John ended the call.

It was when John picked up the helmet to put it back on that he realized where he was at. He looked at the shiny new chain link fence surrounding the _Library_ and the under renovation sign wired to it. ‘Its fate is no longer in _limbo_ apparently’.

He didn't know why he had subconsciously driven himself here. And it hurt like hell to see figuratively another bridge Harold had burned between them. John had come here once a week after their breakup to find the building truly abandoned, but this?

Shaw had showed up that day too demanding to know what the hell was going on.

‘Shaw! She’s still working for him.’ John pulled on his helmet and headed in the direction of the safe house Harold had set up for her.

The door was locked, the blinds drawn when he got there.  John picked the lock, going on in, hoping she was and wasn't inside, the prospect of getting shot before he could get three feet inside wasn't enough to stop him. Desperate men do desperate things.

John did get more than three feet inside, had just began to think Shaw wasn't there before he heard glass shattering as it hit the floor and felt something slammed into the back of his head.

He didn't lose consciousness, but was incapacitated enough that Shaw took him down and had his arm twisted behind him, her knee in his back, before he could do anything about it.

“Hello Shaw”, John managed to get out, even though he was face down in the carpet.

“John, what the hell are you doing here?"  She scrambled up and off him, grabbing her gun off a side table at the same time.

He got up off the floor slowly, partly because he was still reeling from the getting smacked on head and partly because Shaw probably would shoot him if he moved any faster.

“What the hell did you hit me with Shaw?”

“My dinner, now I asked you, why the hell are you here?”

“Harold, I need to find Harold. You’re working with him now; I know you've seen him, help me find him…please?”

“Now there’s something I’d never thought I’d hear, John Reese asking me please. What’s going on John?”

John told her about Bear, everything, expecting Shaw to scoff at the whole thing.

She looked John up and down, her expression softened just a bit, for her anyway, before she answered.

“John, I can’t. I like this job and I want to keep it. I’m sorry about Bear, I like that dog, but I just can’t tell you anything.”

“Thanks a hell of a lot. I’ll think I’ll leave now”, John pushed past her angrily.

“John, wait. Harold still watches over you. You should know that. ”

“Then he damn well knows what’s going on. I’m going home now. Goodbye, Shaw.” John walked out the door slamming it closed behind him.

John was back at the loft’s building and had pulled into his space behind it before his anger had even cooled. He felt like throwing his helmet against the wall he was so angry. Instead he tucked it under his arm as he headed for the back entrance to the apartment building.

John took the stairs up to the loft forgoing the elevator, he needed time to think and calm down. It was wrong to get angry, to think Harold didn't care. John should be directing the anger at himself. He had driven Harold away, had hurt the man so badly he wouldn't come near John again, even for Bear’s sake.

John’s last thought before opening the door was that if Shaw would have shot him, he deserved it. And never in a million years did he expect the brown blur that flew at him when he opened it.

 “Bear, Bear get down. Bear, _aif leggen_.” When he finally got the dog to calm down enough he looked over at a laughing Leon. “What the hell happened? The medicine, did it start working?”

“Maybe, but I think it had more to do with Harold showing up a couple hours ago, I tried to tell you but you hung up on me.”

John looked hopefully around the room, “Where is he?”

“He left, half hour ago maybe. He promised to come back, left a box for you over there on the bed.”

 

~~*~~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry wanted to get this done yesterday
> 
>  
> 
> one more I think after this


	4. The Dumb Things People Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why they broke up

The Dumb Things People Do

 

John tried to get Leon to talk to him, but the other man seemed to be in a hurry to get out of the apartment. 

“Hey man, I got a date; this one is really hot; so I really can’t stay and chat.”

John really didn’t want to _chat_ ; he just needed to know how Finch was. And since he wasn’t really in the mood to make Leon talk, he just waved him towards the door.

Leon stopped just as he was about to leave, turned back and gave John a worried frown. “I really can’t talk about Finchy, he asked me not to. But, I gotta tell ya Bear’s not the only one not eating.” Then Leon bolted out the door.

By the time Reese reached the still partially open doorway, Leon was long gone. That brought a smile to his face, _‘I didn’t know that little accountant could move so fast.’_ But Tau’s parting words quickly wiped the smile from John’s face.

Since that night he had walked out on Harold, John hadn’t felt much like eating but had forced himself to, food tasted worse than the MRs he and Kara used to survive on undercover, but still he ate. But Harold?

Harold would get so caught up in their cases, hacking away at his computers for information, or sometimes just coding for hours on end, never breaking to eat. John had brought tea and donuts and takeout, setting them on the desk, next to Finch. He’d absentmindedly eat what was set by his elbow, but at least he’d eat.

Then when things had gotten personal between them, they’d go out to eat together, John talking away about anything at all, not letting Harold away from their table until he’d eaten what he’d ordered. Or he’d cook something for them the nights Harold spent at the loft.  When things weren’t crazy _at work_ and _Falcone’s_ apartment had become theirs, John would fix something they’d share in their bed.

One of those nights, after John had fed Harold a small meal in the bed they had just made love in, Harold had joked he was getting paunchy doing nothing but eating after sitting all day.  

_“You just don’t sit all day. Besides you burned off plenty of calories about thirty minutes ago. You damn near wore me out. Besides…” John moved the bed tray to the nightstand…”I love your little pot belly.” He cuddled up to Harold, kissing the other man’s stomach before resting his head there._

_Neither men were sleepy from the sex or from the meal they’d just shared, so both of them just lay there, relaxed, enjoying the quiet normalcy of the moment, two people passionately in love, lost in each other’s company._

_“John? I want this for us for the rest of our lives, however long that may be.” Harold spoke softly while caressing John’s hair. “Would you marry me?”_

_John sat up looking in Harold’s face for any doubts or reservations but all he saw was love and hope there. “Yes, Yes” was all he could say between the kisses he rained all over his partner’s face._

_John was so excited he couldn’t lay still. He slid out of bed and walked to the open windows. “I want to live here. In our place.”_

_Harold was looking at him with so much happiness, it made John’s heart skip. “Um, who am I marrying?” John was merely teasing. Harold only answered with a “Who do you want to marry, I thought you said yes to me.”_

_John’s teasing stopped, “I did say yes to you, but the real you. We can marry under our aliases to live here of course, you can make all that appear legal on paper. But I want to marry the real Harold, my real name and yours, on a marriage certificate, even if it’s for our eyes only.”_

_John watched Harold’s fences rising up complete with barbed wire in the guarded look that replaced the look of love and hope. “I can’t do that, I’m sorry. John come back to bed, we’ll talk about it, please.”_

_John couldn’t help saying the hurtful things that started coming out his mouth. “Why? So you can fuck me into ignoring the fact after all we’ve been through, after everything thing I have done to earn it, you still don’t trust me enough to even share your real name. You never will. It’s not in you to trust anyone, not Nathan, not Grace, not me, no one. If there is no trust, this marriage is doomed from the start. Fuck you! Keep your damn secrets.”_

_John then scooped up his clothes and went into the bath slamming the door behind him._

_Once dressed John stormed into the living room grabbing the confused Bear’s leash and snapping it on the dog’s collar. “Come on! Let’s go!”_

_He turned back to look at Harold standing in their bedroom door pants hastily pulled on, undone, “John? Please don’t go.” John had heard Harold’s tone of voice from anxiously worried to downright steel, but never plaintively begging. Still John’s anger controlled him._

_“Goodbye **FINCH!** I think its best we end this, all of it.”_

_“All right, whatever you want John.” Harold didn’t say another word just watched John leave, his face now devoid of any emotion._

_John spent the next week drinking most of the time, passed out the rest. When he finally had allowed himself to sober up, he took a good long look in the mirror at himself and realized Harold wasn’t the only one with issues. Again he’d ran away from the best thing that had ever happened to him. This time he wasn’t going to throw it all away._

_John called Finch’s cell, heard the blips of the call transfer, then just the voicemail of the Wren number_ , _“Call me please, Harold, I’m sorry.”_

_John cleaned himself up and drove to The Library, thinking he would get down on his knees and beg Harold to forgive him if he had to. He loved the paranoid man, secrets and all._

_His heart almost fell out of his chest when he saw the new fencing around the building and a flurry of construction workers in and outside of it. Harold had given him what John wanted. He had ended everything._

_It wasn’t even on hour after he’d been back at the loft a currier dropped off an envelope. He took it over to the small desk near the windows, sat down and opened it. Inside was a note…. - As we agreed, if you ever wanted out, new ID and enough funds to start over anywhere. H.F. - Inside were new identification; birth certificate, social security card, driver’s license, credit cards, bank books with amounts in the millions. He took them all and dumped them in the waste basket._

_For the first time in 30 years John lay down on his bed and wept himself to sleep._

John felt a clenching in his gut. He’d been with Harold long enough to know what medications he took, and even the side effects of taking them and not eating. Enough to know that it could kill him eventually.

Just as surely as the booze would have eventually killed him, Harold was going down that same suicidal road and it was all John’s fault. He had to right this somehow.

Walking over to the bed to grab the cellphone out of the jacket he’d tossed there he remembered the box lying next to it.

It was an old wooden curio box, probably 50 years old at least. When he opened it there was an envelope in a tray with an old and tarnished man’s pocket watch and some even older costume jewelry.

John took the letter out of the envelope.

_John,_

_You were right I should trust you with everything._

_I burned my real identity so long ago I sometimes forget I wasn’t always a Harold Wren or Finch or the hundreds of aliases I’ve used through the years. After 40 years it’s become second nature to keep that a secret to myself even if it means losing those I hold dear._

_I have shared so much more of myself with you than anyone in my life, believe that if nothing else._

_In this box is all that’s left of who I was before I became Harold Wren. I’m giving this to you John, like I should have done the day I fell in love with you. Seems I am always doomed to repeat past mistakes._

_I wished I could go back in time, fix things, but I can’t._

_Harold_

_P.S. I could never hate you John._

_~~*~~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter, the reconciliation, with the help of Bear's acting
> 
>  
> 
> I don't really know if taking medication on an empty stomach can actually harm you, but I get sick as a dog if I don't eat taking mine.  
> So based solely on personal experience.


	5. Bear's Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harold tried to make a step toward the door to leave, but before either man could stop the dog, Bear had bumped into his legs causing him to flop back down on the couch and was now sprawled across Harold’s lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear has to 'intervene' when his masters mess up... again

Bear's Intervention

 

John reread the letter over and over.

If the CIA broke down the door right now, threw a black hood over his head and threw him in the deepest, darkest hole they could find, John felt that fate would be too good for him.

John had hurt Finch so badly with his words, thought Harold hated him so much because of them, that he had cut all ties with John. Now looking at this precious gift; and it was precious; in that wooden box were pieces of Harold’s past that he had shared with no one, ever; it made him realize how much Harold loved him still.

The guilt John was feeling painfully intensified at the understanding of how much he had misconstrued Harold’s actions the past three months.

Harold hadn’t ‘fired’ him out of anger, he’d freed John from his commitment to the numbers, given him means to live well off anywhere he would choose, with anyone he chose.

Harold hadn’t been evading him out of spite, it was what he thought **John** wanted, to be out of the man’s secretive paranoia filled life forever.

After he thought John had decided to stay, assisting the two detectives, Carter and Fusco, much to their annoyance at times, having to save his butt at others, cases were getting solved- mysterious evidence showing up, tips called in from concerned citizens. Now it made sense. Shaw had said Harold still watched over him, was protecting him, and helping him.

And now this.

John folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. He picked up the pocket watch and read the inscription on the back. ‘ _To Harold, my dearest husband, I’ll love you through eternity. Your little sparrow, Angela - March 17, 1958.’_ Inside was a tiny, fading black and white photo of a man and woman holding their toddler between them, Harold and his parents?

John reached in and lifted the tray, on top was a picture of smiling boy of 8 or 9. He picked up the picture and on the back was written Harold, Sept. 23, 1964. John was reaching in to take out more of the contents, when he changed his mind. He didn’t deserve this. He carefully placed the aging picture back, the tray and jewelry next, then the watch in its nest and closed the lid.

John pulled his cell out called the Wren number, expecting to get voicemail, never in a million years did he expect to hear “Mr. Reese?” instead.

“John? Is everything alright? Is it Bear?” from the other end a few seconds later brought John out of his shocked stupor.

“Sorry, he seems to be okay now, Harold, but he is missing you already, he keeps listening at the door. Can you come again, soon?” ‘Harold, please say yes. I need to see you too,’ John silently pleaded.

“I have….an appointment….in the morning. Is one tomorrow afternoon okay?”

“Yes, yes fine, thank you. Do you want me here? I can get Leon to dog sit again?”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary…Mr. Reese…I need to see you, too.”

“I’ll be here….Harold….I lo…I’ll see you tomorrow.”

John picked up the box and put it on the shelf in the closet where his suits hung, grabbed a change of clothes and then went to shower.

Later trying to get to sleep, all John could do was toss and turn, running hundreds of different scenarios in his head what he could do to repair the damage his stupid outburst months ago had caused.

Bear sensing John’s distress, came over and laid his head down on the bed next to his hand. “What should I do boy? We need to get him back.” He stroked the dog’s head, thinking.

Morning sunlight filtered through the closed curtains finding John still sleepless and with no idea how to get Harold back. Throwing back the covers in frustration, John gave up trying to sleep, pulled on his running clothes and went for an early morning jog.

At 12:45 pm John paced worriedly around the apartment for the next fifteen minutes. John felt a huge surge a relief along with waves of nervousness, when at exactly 1 pm, Harold knocked at the loft’s door.

John didn’t know if he gave any outward indication as to the shock he felt when he saw Harold for the first time since John had walked out on him.

Harold was impeccably dressed, as always, the suit tailored to fit his small frame almost to perfection. Almost. But fine tailoring didn’t hide how much weight the man had lost. If someone could waste away into nothing, Harold was almost there.

“Hello, Mr. Reese.”

Harold gave John a tentative smile. One that did not reach his eyes.  Eyes that were blank, seemingly devoid of any emotion. They were like the same empty eyes John had seen looking back at him from the mirror every day for months now.

John felt a stab in his heart hearing the formal address, outside of their professional relationship, he hadn’t been anything but _John_. But what could he expect, it was what he had asked for. Ending it all, even the familiarity of a first name.

Gathering himself, John moved aside, motioning Finch in.

“Please, go sit, before he knocks you down.”

 Bear had trotted over as soon as he had heard Harold’s voice, was happily dancing around the man’s legs, his training just barely keeping the excited dog from jumping up in greeting.

John watched as Harold walked over to the small sofa, Bear happily heeling at his side. _‘If nothing else happens today, I’ve got to get Harold to take the dog with him when he leaves’,_ thought John sadly.

“Want anything?” John offered after Harold was seated.

“No, nothing. I can’t stay long. Thank you. Wait…” as John started to walk towards them, “I’d like some water, if you don’t mind, please?”

John made a turn and headed for the kitchen. This was not going well. Harold had abruptly changed his mind, asking John for water, to send him in another direction rather than be in close proximity to him.

It was as he expected, when returning with the bottle of _Avian_ , Harold was already up and murmuring apologetic goodbyes to Bear.

“Leaving so soon, Harold? I thought you needed to see me?”

“I’m sorry, I need to go Mr. Reese. I will call you, make arrangements, so I can see Bear again. Maybe Leon can bring him to the dog park?”

John knew he should say something, anything to get Harold to stay, but he just said. “Fine. Thanks for coming by.” _‘Stupid, stupid, he’s walking out and you’re just letting him. What the fuck is wrong with you?’_

Harold tried to make a step toward the door to leave, but before either man could stop the dog, Bear had bumped into his legs causing him to flop back down on the couch and was now sprawled across Harold’s lap.

When Harold tried to push the dog off his lap he quickly pulled his hands back hearing Bear’s soft growl. John ordered the dog off and when nothing happened reached out to physically move the dog and was warned off by a louder more threatening growl.

“You don’t think he’ll bite do you Mr. Reese?”

“I don’t know Harold, I am not chancing it; I guess we wait on him to move. And please, can you just call me John.”

“Okay….John. What do you propose we do while we wait?”

“How about we talk? I know you wanted to, or else Leon would be here, not me. So, talk to me now.”

‘I….I wanted to tell you face to face how sorry I am I couldn’t trust you Mr. Reese … John, when I should have. Instead of sharing something I’ve kept hidden my whole life with the first person I’ve ever truly trusted in it, I shut you out. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”

“Harold, it’s not your fault. I had no right to push you. I know you trust me. I just did like I’ve done all my life. I sabotage every chance at happiness I get, first with Jess, now with you. You’re not telling me your name was just an excuse to run away again. I hope you can forgive me.”

John went over to the closet and pulled down the wooden box, and brought it back over to give back its owner.

“Here, I don’t deserve this.” John handed back the box, then knelt at Harold’s feet and surprisingly, Bear moved to the floor and lay down not too far away. “Harold, forgive me, please, for being such a bastard to you. If you’ll have me back I will do whatever it takes to make this up to you.”

“Oh John, John.  Come here.”

 

Bear had made the rounds, sniffing out every inch of this new house. Taking a chance he now jumped up on the bed to lay at his owners’ feet.

He liked spending time with his friend, but it was good to be back with his masters again. They had returned, offering him many treats, even allowing him to lick their paws when they did. He didn’t much care for the taste of the shiny things each had on one toe, so he didn’t lick there again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They worked things our ... Bear is now a very happy weighty dog again.
> 
>  
> 
> Edit: June 201... canon has John separated from Harold and Bear. I hope Bear is fine...Harold and John too.

**Author's Note:**

> have the rest plotted in my mind, will post it when I write it, soon


End file.
